


rainy day kisses

by TheGuiltyOnes (ThexDoctorsxWife)



Series: cordelia cousland [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:58:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6365743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThexDoctorsxWife/pseuds/TheGuiltyOnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He falls in love with her on a cloudy, rainy day, rivulets of water darkening her hair, raindrops glistening like pearls on her cheeks, her full mouth pink and wet. Her head is thrown back, black curls spreading down her back like ink stains along her drenched clothing, clothing that is currently sticking to her short frame, her curves displayed so beautifully. She is grinning, spinning in circles, delight and joy shining from her face, her laughter loud and boisterous. </p><p>She’s utterly beautiful, he thinks as he watches her from within the warm, dry tent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rainy day kisses

**Author's Note:**

> they're so gross.

He falls in love with her on a cloudy, rainy day, rivulets of water darkening her hair, raindrops glistening like pearls on her cheeks, her full mouth pink and wet. Her head is thrown back, black curls spreading down her back like ink stains along her drenched clothing, clothing that is currently sticking to her short frame, her curves displayed so beautifully. She is grinning, spinning in circles, delight and joy shining from her face, her laughter loud and boisterous. 

She’s utterly beautiful, he thinks as he watches her from within the warm, dry tent. 

He shakes his head. Beautiful is not an adequate word to describe her in this raw moment of unbridled joy. Magnificent, maybe, incandescent, most likely. 

She stops her spinning, stumbling slightly before her malachite eyes settle on him. As always, when she looks at him, his skin prickles with goosebumps, cheeks coloring as she does a slow sweep up and down his body. He can’t exactly tell if it’s interest (oh sweet Maker, please), or something else entirely unpleasant that flares in her eyes as she walks towards him. 

“Alistair,” she sings softly. 

She extends her hand, palm facing up, an expectant look on her face. He glances at her before settling his hand atop hers, a loud gasp of surprise escaping his mouth as she pulls him out into the open, the rain quickly soaking him. 

“Isn’t it wonderful?” She cries with a wide smile.

 _She_ is wonderful, he thinks. Rare and wonderful. 

He grins, grasping her hand tightly as she tilts her head back, closing her eyes as water trickles down the sharp curves of her cheeks. 

“My brother and I used to play in the rain a lot,” she says. 

Sadness in her voice, though a small smile curves her mouth as she recalled memories. 

She looks at him, hair plastered along her cheeks and neck, water gathered along her long lashes. “Mother was furious when we came trudging through the  
castle, water dripping from our clothes. She said we’d catch our death, but that never stopped us from racing each other outside to be the first person to catch a raindrop on our tongue.”

She finds a log to sit on, tugging his hand until he settles beside her. She rests her head against his shoulder, the scent of jasmine filling the air. 

“We grew too old for such games but those days were magical.”

Her voice is laden with sorrow, her fingers curled tight around his. He swallows thickly at the sensation of her thumb brushing along his knuckles, the heat of her body searing his soaking clothes. His lips brush once, twice, over the top of her head. She freezes and the tips of his ears burn as she pulls back to look at him.

“I’m sorry I -” he falters momentarily caught up in the way raindrops trickle down her face, dipping off the curve of her nose, trickling down her full lower lip before snaking down to dangle precariously on the edge of her pointed chin. 

“Alistair.”

Her voice is low, filled with heat and something he cannot name. He shivers at the way his name sounds, each syllable wrapped in silk and heat.

“Lia,” he says hoarsely.

And then her hand comes up to brush along his cheek, tendrils of fire igniting along his skin contrasting with the coolness of the rain. 

“Will you let me?” She asks softly, her thumb brushing along the corner of his mouth. 

He’s not entirely sure what she’s asking permission for, but he knows that he would gladly allow her to do anything to him. 

He must have nodded because a big smile breaks out on her face and he feels momentarily blinded by the sheer brilliance of such a reaction. It isn’t often that she allows herself to offer more than a teasing smirk, a slight curl of her lips. He feels like he is being given a precious gift, witnessing the crinkles near her eyes, the intriguing dimple near her mouth. 

Her eyes flicker down to his mouth and his fingers curl in anticipation.

Oh Maker.

When her lips press gently against his mouth it’s nothing like in his dreams. Her lips are soft, like silk, brushing against his. 

“You can touch me,” she murmurs against his mouth.

His eyes fly open in embarrassment. His hands are hovering awkwardly in the air and he turns his head, his whole face on fire. What an absolute idiot he was. She was probably laughing at how ridiculous he was. A cool hand against the curve of his jaw has him turning to face her, his eyes refusing to meet hers. 

“Alistair, look at me,” she commands softly.

When he does, he’s relieved to see nothing but kindness in her dark blue gaze. She shifts so that she’s straddling the log, scooting closer. 

“You can put your hands on my waist, I don’t mind. Or on my arms. Anywhere is fine with me,” she reassures him. 

He nods and slowly inches his hand across her waist, his hazel eyes flickering to and from her face to gauge her reaction. When she grins he squeezes gently. 

“Would you like to continue?”

His enthusiastic nod makes her laugh, another rare sound from her, and happiness and satisfaction travels through him because he is the reason for such behavior.

This time, when her lips cover his own, he is more confident, squeezing her flesh, cupping her cheek with his free hand, his lips kissing back with enthusiasm.  
When she pulls back, their breathing is ragged. Her lips are pink and plump from his ministrations and he can't help but feel happy that he's the reason.

He wonders if she'll let him kiss her again in the near future and her peals of laughter makes him realize that he's voiced such thoughts out loud. “Of course you may,” she teases, the curl of her lip tempting. 

He knows that he should feel embarrassed and awkward, but she makes him feel lightheaded and dizzy and happy. She's done that to him, and Maker's Mercy, he is so grateful that she is a part of his life.

“So am I,” she says softly.

He really needs to work on filtering his thoughts, but when she leans in for another kiss, he thinks that maybe it isn't so bad after all.


End file.
